When I lived in Athens, WV with my family, we owned a dog named Sweetpea. She was a mix of many different breeds, a mutt, but she looked like a Cocker Spaniel. She had golden brown hair. We didn't know it, but Sweetpea was having sexual relations with a burly red dog that lived down the street. This red dog would come over once in a while but we didn't know what was going on.

Sweetpea was soon pregnant. She gave birth under the floor of the woodshed in our backyard. Animals are extremely protective of their offspring, and Sweetpea must have thought her pups would be safe there. I was only 3 years old, and knew nothing. I followed my mother into the backyard one day and I sat down next to the woodshed. She had a hammer in her hand, and she was prying up the boards. I saw some baby dogs, and my curiosity was piqued. I didn't know what my mom was doing, but she wasn't finished. She pried up every single board at the bottom of that woodshed, and I saw more and more pups. My sisters and I carried them into the house. The three of us spent most of our days playing with them. There were nine.

My older sister grabbed hold of one of the babes and said, "Here. This is the one I like the best." It had reddish curly hair. She rolled it over on its back and drew a purple marker line on its pale pink belly. Every time I went looking for that one, and found it, I'd check to see if the purple line was still on it. It never faded.

I used to watch Sweetpea breastfeeding her puppies all the time. Since she only had eight nipples, only eight could feed at a time. I was entranced. The dog would stand erect, practically unmoving, while the little ones gathered under her. One would get off and another one would get on. 

But soon the puppies dwindled away. My mother seemed to be always on the phone. I couldn't understand anything she said, but people kept coming over and taking the dogs. It wasn't long before we were down to only a few, and at this point I knew they were disappearing. I was becoming sad. I wanted to keep all of them.

I was able to tolerate the loss of the puppies. But then came the day everybody was in the car ready to leave West Virginia. My only thought was Sweetpea. "Why can't we take her?" I asked my mom. "The car is full and there's no room for her," she said. I was depressed, even though I enjoyed long drives. This is one of my oldest childhood memories. When I see pictures of Sweetpea, I don't remember what she looked like. I've had five dogs, and it was traumatic to part with every one of them. But the puppies will always be a happy memory.